


Forged Sanity

by Merfilly



Category: Elfquest
Genre: Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 22:05:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8771107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: Two-Edge makes the armor, holding the madness at bay, as he considers his path.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Firewolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firewolf/gifts).



> Meant to be set against the original quest, once the Wolfriders meet the Go-Backs. Please forgive continuity errors; it's been some time since I read them last.

The hammer rang on the anvil with a soothing rhythm that drove the madness of his blood into hiding. While he forged the armor, he could think. His thoughts were his alone, turning over the heritage he had been given, and the thrust of his mother's kind in this world that kept seeking to reject them. Forge the armor, arm the elves, betray the trolls? Or was it betrayal, if all Two-Edge was doing was evening the odds, making it that much harder for his father's people to run ram-shod over the slender creatures that sometimes called to Two-Edge in his more sane moments?

The hammer pounded at the metal, crafting such art that he could feel pride in place of the madness that usually haunted him. He was the best craftsman, with the secrets of the artificers and the near-magic of the High Ones. In him, the union could have been perfection, had Winnowill but taken a different path with him. When she crafted his making, her choices had driven the wedge in his sanity. A different mother… yes, had he but been born to one like the desert healer, he might very well have been strong enough to wield both bloods at once.

Yet, he knew without doubt that not a single other elf could ever have done what Winnowill had, by taking his father's life essence to make him. 

Two-Edge beat the metal into a delicate shape, fit for one of the woodland folk, or maybe their more savage cold-dwelling cousins. How would the war go with his gifts? Would it fuel the pale chief's mission in life, or end it for all time?

He let his laughter ring with the stroke of the armor, considering that question. Madness crept along the edge of his mind, beating in his chest, but for now, the forge held it at bay.

Later, perhaps, he would be lost in it again. For now, he only meant to upset the order of things, much as his mother had done in her shaping of those around her.

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by elfwreck as a gift


End file.
